


Here Comes The Sun

by wordplay



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-29
Updated: 2011-03-29
Packaged: 2017-10-17 18:55:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/180129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordplay/pseuds/wordplay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt falls in love in the winter; Blaine waits until spring.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Here Comes The Sun

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [this](http://community.livejournal.com/porcelain_fans/42651.html) challenge. This is play!fic, wherein (a) I actually try to write song!fic, which has always made me side-eye a little bit; and (b) I take a super-simple metaphor and try to stretch it until I'm (hopefully!) just shy of it snapping back in my face and getting really ugly.
> 
> Originally posted [here](http://community.livejournal.com/kurt_blaine/1276596.html).

  
  
_Little darling, it's been a long cold lonely winter  
Little darling, it feels like years since it's been here  
Here comes the sun, here comes the sun  
and I say it's all right _

Kurt fully expects the last weeks before spring break to be a painful anti-climax, a long slog through all the mud and lingering disappointment of winter before he can get to the promise of a week with nothing to do, with the warmth of spring waiting just on the other side. It's a bitter irony that just as the birds are starting to sing he's preparing to put one in the ground, and it's the kind of thing that he thinks one day he'll be able to look back on and laugh off as one of the many tiny tragedies of his adolescence in the middle of nowhere, that barren wasteland of anti-culture and homogeneity - one day when he'll be able to _use_ words like 'homogeneity' without people looking at him like he's grown an additional head or just snickering at the syllables 'homo' coming out of his mouth. And see? It's all so terribly ironic.

It's been a long winter, and he's feeling it.

It hadn't been all bad; he misses his friends, and he still resents how trapped he sometimes feels, but there have been things about his time so far at Dalton that he appreciates when he can bring himself to see it as a stolen season of cocooning and wrapping up. The school is so _beautiful_ , for one thing, and it's been such a comfortable and elegant place to hibernate and wait for the world to turn and change and thaw around him. Sometimes on a late and snowy afternoon when the Warblers have chosen to take practice on long leather couches around a roaring fireplace he'll have a flash of last winter's pre-Regionals practices, of being able to see his breath in the choir room because the budget could barely cover a bus, never mind their sketchy radiators, and of the constant on-now-off-now-on-again of coats and scarves and gloves while they tried to get their choreography right and their bodies generated their own heat. Pressed between those boys in their blazers and dress shoes, lounging comfortable and caffeinated after a round of pre-rehearsal lattes, hasn't been the worst way a person could pass a bitter midwestern winter. And there have been other benefits.

Blaine, neat and handsome and charismatic frontman that he was, blew into his life when the chill of November was knocking down the last of the leaves and he made the winter a more colorful place than usual. Kurt had fallen into some kind of love by Christmas and by Valentine's Day he'd had his heart broken, but as spring approached they found a brand new equilibrium, settling into place a deep friendship that had weathered so many storms in just a few short months. By the time the trees are budding out again Kurt knows a different Blaine, a boy who could be painfully thoughtless even as he was heartmeltingly kind, the kind of hot mess that no amount of hair gel could control. Kurt had tumbled ass-over-teakettle even before he got to see Blaine in an overcoat and scarf, but by the time he's itching to shed them Kurt likes him even better; all of his flaws leave Blaine real, touchable, and god how Kurt has wanted to touch.

By the time he settles down in a long-familiar lounge to make real preparations for Pavarotti's funeral, Kurt's settling into a late-winter funk, resigned to weeks more of waiting and hoping for something to change. He has no idea what's coming, he only knows that spring has to be better.

He really has no idea.

  
 _Little darling, the smiles returning to the faces  
Little darling, it seems like years since it's been here  
Here comes the sun, here comes the sun  
and I say it's all right _

As it turns out, though, the two weeks leading directly into break are _nothing_ like Kurt expects. Even if he had somehow known that Blaine was going to walk into that room and kiss him, had known that soon he'd be able to touch to his heart's content, he had never paid enough specific attention to the couples around him to know what it might be like to be somebody's boyfriend, so instead of feeling numbed by the dragging winter, he feels like he's extra-aware of his body, like his fingers are tingling not from the cold but because there are so many new things to touch.

Burying Pavarotti, losing Regionals – these are things that Kurt knows he will remember years from now, but as the days go by the immediate sting starts to ebb because there's just so _much_ to discover. Every day at lunch Blaine will press his knee against Kurt's and smile at him with his eyes so soft and warm. Some afternoons Blaine will pull him into an empty classroom or an alcove and kiss him for long lazy minutes, and the first time he slid his hands under Kurt's blazer to press against the small of his back Kurt shivered from the warmth of his palms through his shirt and smiled into a kiss. He'd known he would learn a lot during his time at Dalton, but he couldn't have known how much he had to learn about this, about the heat and connection between two people. Even when they're just sliding their pinky fingers together during a relaxed Warblers practice, singing just for the joy of it and the pleasure of being together as a group, he feels expanded, and he finally understands what has driven his friends to such utter lunacy; he would give anything to keep this.

He and Blaine are growing closer all the time, both in the physical sense and the emotional ones. They talk about their old schools; Blaine talks about regrets and how he would handle a second chance to do it all again, and Kurt tries to look nonchalant when he says that he can't even imagine what regrets would look like, because he never left – he was exiled.

One long, lazy afternoon after the time changes and the light seems to be lasting _forever_ , they sit near the window at the Lima Bean and Blaine tells him what it was _really_ like with Jeremiah – how much he had hoped for, and how much it had hurt to be rejected out of hand for something he could never have controlled, and how shocked he had been when Kurt had told him he'd thought Blaine might be interested in him. He replies by telling Blaine about his own incredibly unfortunate crushes, and although it stings a little when Blaine laughs at the idea of him crushing on Finn and then Sam (Blaine still doesn't know how kind Finn can be when he wants to, and he hopes desperately that Blaine _never_ knows just how badly Kurt craves kindness, because there's 'vulnerable' and then there's just 'pathetic'), it's instantly salved when Blaine takes his hand and slides their knees together when Kurt talks about what he had felt for Blaine for all those long, lonely winter months. Blaine's eyes are soft and warm when he apologizes, and it's everything he can do not to bring up "Love Story", but it's true – there's really no need for "I'm sorry" between them, certainly not about this. Not when Blaine's looking at him like _he's_ the sun, and not when they're locked so tightly together – by their hands, by the ferocity of their intentions – that he can't tell who's orbiting whom.

  
 _Sun, sun, sun, here it comes..._

Spring break finally arrives, dark and dreary and cold, but it hardly matters to Kurt because that just means a full week of cuddling up with Blaine in his house, _alone_. McKinley's on a different break schedule and Kurt and his dad hadn't tried to leave town in the spring since the year after Kurt's mother died, when his dad thought a trip to Florida might be just what they both needed to get them out of their mutual funk, so the house is empty during the long, feckless hours of the day, and Kurt starts thinking of the time as their honeymoon.

The week isn't everything that that term implies, obviously, but he does learn that what Blaine's hiding under those white button-up shirts is kind of criminal. He allows himself one photo of Blaine, shirtless, lounging on his bed on a Wednesday afternoon, a weak ray of sunlight shafting across his torso, and he changes the passcode on his phone immediately. Mostly, though, they watch movies and learn how best to fold their bodies together on the narrow couch, or listen to music and play at kissing at tempo and in rhythm. Friends from McKinley use the week to wash up at Kurt's house after school, and now that they're free to talk about their Nationals playlist, Rachel starts making a suspicious amount of noise about what Kurt's voice could add to their range. It stings, and Kurt can't help making a side comment to Mercedes that it would have been nice if Rachel could have appreciated other people's contributions a little earlier in the game, back when it might have actually _mattered_ , but Mercedes is curiously quiet in response.

Thursday is, to Kurt's surprise, the best day of them all. Blaine shows up early and has a cup of coffee with Kurt and his dad and Carole, and when his dad asks him what their plans are for the day, Blaine says, "Well, it's the warmest day of the week, it looks like, and it's just gorgeous out there already. I was kind of hoping we might go out to Indian Lake and do some hiking."

Carole says, "Oh, that sounds lovely!" and his dad says, "Huh. Yeah, good luck with that," and Kurt just stares.

Blaine whines and wheedles and cajoles Kurt all the way up to his room, and shows him the weather forecast on Kurt's laptop, and advises him through his wardrobe. ("Layers, you want layers." "Okay, layers I can definitely do. What about shoes?" "Mmm, just something comfortable and that you don't mind getting a little dirty." And suddenly Kurt's back to staring before he says, "If I didn't _love my shoes_ , I might have something like that.")

Kurt settles on a pair of his oldest, darkest Doc Marten's, and they set out. Blaine chooses short trails, and it really is beautiful, wild crocuses peeking up and just a hint of a breeze. They sit on a broad, flat rock at an overlook and share bottles of water and a bag of grapes.

Blaine stares at the sunlight on the hair of Kurt's forearms, running his hands gently over it and asking Kurt, "what color _is_ your hair, anyway? It goes so... golden." Kurt tells Blaine how fair his hair went in the summer when he'd been a child, back before he understood the hazards of prolonged sun exposure. Blaine laughs, tells him they'll have to work on that, and talks about how he's always been so dark - when he was born he'd resembled his mother more, only later growing more pale and lighter in overall pigmentation, like his dad.

"Funny how we're both working toward that middle," Kurt says, and then he sort of rolls his eyes at himself.

Blaine just grins at him. "Funny, or a deep and meaningful metaphor?"

" _Everything_ I say is deep and meaningful - keep up."

Blaine smiles wider, his eyes crinkling at the edges, and as he leans in for a kiss he says, "Oh don't worry, I'm paying very close attention," and then he proves it by gently pressing Kurt down against the rock and showing him he remembers exactly how Kurt likes to be kissed. The rock is so _warm_ beneath his back, and Blaine is warm weight on top of him, and Blaine's dark hair has been absorbing the sunlight all day so when he sinks his hands into it to hold Blaine's mouth against his neck it's like sliding them into a pool of heated silk, and it's like being wrapped up in spring.

It's easily the best spring break he's ever had, because lazy afternoons and late nights and kisses and somehow even _hiking_ with Blaine trumps 3 meals a day with Mickey Mouse and Disney Princesses, every time. Kurt knows Blaine is the boy for him when he tells him that on Sunday night, bundled up on his front porch long after the sun has gone down, and Blaine is so deeply honored by the sentiment that he's left speechless. Kurt kisses him for a long time after that.

  
 _Little darling, I feel that ice is slowly melting  
Little darling, it seems like years since it's been clear  
Here comes the sun, here comes the sun,  
and I say it's all right_

Their return to Dalton should be a little depressing, but the weather finally appears to be turning and it's hard to resent school when there's so much energy on campus. The groundskeepers and Mother Nature have been busy while the students were away, so the beds are freshly awash in blossoms. The sweet decaying scent of mulch clings to everything, but Blaine picks a tiny miniature daffodil and tucks it into Kurt's brooch, looking so serious as he aligns it perfectly that Kurt has to kiss him. Their friends' catcalls just leave him smiling.

The daffodil is still pinned to his Dalton blazer when he arrives home and finds all of New Directions sitting in his living room, waiting for him.

They had apparently used the first day of their spring break to practice their persuasive arguments, and Kurt spares just a moment to regret that McKinley can't support a debate team, because they make a good case. Karofsky's becoming less and less of a problem, and he _belongs_ with them, and they can't win Nationals without him. (He's doubtful they can win it _with_ him, either, but the compliment is too good to give away.) In short: they beg him to come home.

He calls Blaine that night.

Rachel mounts an assault over Facebook, which means that soon the Warblers have figured out that he's considering it, and while the conversations that follow over the next couple of days take on an air of negotiation, he tries hard to never pit one side against the other. It's new, feeling so wanted, and he can't help glorying in it. It's also exciting; he has dreamed about going to Nationals, about going to _New York_ , and he wants it, _craves_ it, like something whose time has come.

On Thursday morning he hears his dad and Carole discussing bills over breakfast. It takes him a minute to make the connection, but he hears them juggling their plans and how often the word 'tuition' comes up, and it scares him; he still has so long to go at Dalton, and he hadn't fully considered everything that meant for his family.

And then that afternoon he's pausing in the hallway to get a stubborn book completely tucked into his bag before he walks into a Warblers' meeting. He can't hear what was said to set him off, but Blaine's voice rings above the rest: "Leave it, okay? You think I want him to go, that I just can't wait for him to leave? But he didn't have a choice before, and he deserves one, so just _lay off already_."

He gets through practice by giving up on being discreet, holding Blaine's hand in his lap throughout. He stays put when practice is over and fixes Blaine with a look, and it only takes fifteen minutes of increasingly unsubtle gestures for the Warblers to get the hint and clear out.

And then it's just them, and Kurt doesn't know what he thought he was going to say.

"I heard what you said before I came in," is what finally comes out, and Blaine just looks uncomfortable.

He presses on. "I wanted you to know how much I liked it." He pauses, and looks down at their hands folded together on his thigh while he lets it go. "We talked about my crush on Finn, and then on Sam, and then on you. I think – I think, ultimately, that I have a type: I like very, very nice boys."

"That's... that's good, though. That it's important to you that people treat you well. I mean, I want that for you," Blaine says.

Kurt takes a deep breath and squeezes his fingers. "I want _you_ for me. Nobody else seems to quite get how much it means to me to be able to even _make_ this decision."

"Oh. Well. I... I told you I was paying attention," Blaine quips, leaning against him harder for a second to knock their shoulders together.

"You did, didn't you?" he says with a smile, and he looks up to face Blaine, this beautiful boy whose weak smile is struggling to stay on his face. He wants so badly to keep it there, because it _belongs_ there – it's what's right, natural, his face lit up with it – and he's afraid he's just going to steal it away again.

He's not wrong. Blaine studies him and then says, "You're going back."

Kurt holds his eyes and nods.

Blaine just stares at him and uses the hold on his hands to pull him closer until Kurt falls against him, his head resting on Blaine's shoulder, and Blaine's arms wrap around him.

They sit there just like that for a minute, and Kurt's hands come up to rest against Blaine's chest, sliding under his blazer to press warm hands against him, to curl his fingers around his sides under his arms, feeling his ribs fall and expand with each breath that he puffs out into Kurt's hair.

Kurt finally says into his shoulder, "What do you think?"

Blaine drops a kiss onto his head and says, "I'm your friend and your boyfriend, so I'm proud and I'm heartbroken. I think it's probably the right decision, and I'll really really miss you."

"It's just school, Blaine. It's not... it's not like it really _matters_ ," and it shocks Kurt to hear those words come out of his mouth, because that used to be _all_ that mattered. He wishes then that they could have had longer together at Dalton, that he could have been there when spring rolled in in earnest and Blaine started shedding the blazer for lunch on the lawn, rolling up his shirt sleeves. He'll miss it, and he starts daydreaming about Blaine dropping in at McKinley for actually _happy_ lunches, about showing off his boyfriend in the lunchroom and smiling at him in the audience instead of across a stage, about what it will be like to know that Blaine is there not because he has to be, not because it's his place too, but because he's there _for Kurt_.

They walk together to his car, talking about how Blaine will follow in his own to Kurt's house. Blaine seems reluctant to let him go quite yet, and he understands; the parking lot is empty by this time, and there's no telling what will be waiting at home for them.

He leans against the car and looks at Blaine. The sun is setting behind him and he's haloed in red light so that Kurt has to squint to look at him properly. He closes his eyes and pulls Blaine close instead, his warmth pressing Kurt into the cold of the metal and glass behind him.

He pulls Blaine into a kiss, whispering "Courage" against his lips. Blaine just shakes his head and kisses him long and deep, then pulls back just a touch to whisper, "we don't need that any more. 'Hope'," he says, and he kisses him again.

 _It's all right_   



End file.
